When Phil came home
by cjdreams98
Summary: Phil comes home only to face his biggest fear... Potential trigger warning, angst-turned-fluff/romance after the first few chapters, I promise! Open to suggestions and may include the occassional cute oneshot. Strong language throughout.
1. Chapter 1

Dan's POV.

London was enclosed in it's typical haze of smog and cloud, the sagging sky threatening rain as it had been for the past week. Despite having turned the heating on and wearing an obnoxiously festive Christmas jumper, the apartment remained practically arctic and I was forced to steal - um, borrow - one of Phil's hoodies.

Needless to say, I did not feel like going outside today.

Not that there was much else to do inside: for once I was up to date on all the usual household chores and, because I hadn't posted much online over the last few days, replying to messages and comments from fans had only taken around 10 minutes. I couldn't even kill some time watching the latest anime series Phil had insisted we buy, because he'd also insisted that I wasn't allowed to watch it without him. Normally that wouldn't have been an issue (Phil and I were literally the definition of homebodies... or recluse', depending on your perspective), but he'd been away a lot recently. There was the cousin's birthday, the other cousin's wedding, something involving some uni friends and a movie before the cancelled trains that had prevented him coming home yesterday... or was it bowling? Either way, a series of unfortunate coincidences had led to Phil being away from home for almost two weeks.

It was rare that we spent so long away from each other, so, although I liked to think I wasn't a clingy person, I was finding it hard to adjust to an empty apartment. There was nobody to wake me up with tea or coffee when I overslept, no one to argue with about what to have for dinner and no one willing by any means necessary, whether by pelting me with maltesers or simply asking me to come back, to help me pull myself out of the trance I delicately labelled 'existential crisis'.

Maybe I was clingier than I realised...

Moving on.

In any case, I missed Phil. He was such an eternal ray of freaking sunshine, with his summer-sky eyes and constant crooked smile. I'd jokingly nicknamed him 'Space-boy' when he brought that ridiculous coat, but when I thought about it, he was seriously out of this world. His dark hair, garish clothes and blue eyes made him the starry night to my dreary, plain, and monotonous rainy day. Since I first met him and worked up the courage to admit that I wanted to start my own YouTube channel, his ambition and enthusiasm had been infectious. When he was gone, he took that with him, and I could feel things getting bad again.

The same series of coincidences that had occupied Phil had seemingly provided me with some of the loneliest, scariest and most difficult weeks I'd faced. The producers at Radio 1 had questioned the necessity of our upcoming Christmas special when, without Phil, I'd been unable to convey our ideas properly, and just the other day when I'd forced myself to brave the elements and do some Christmas shopping, I'd been recognised by someone who decidedly wasn't a fan, if the spit on my shoes was anything to go by.

That had been fun.

Usually, I was pretty good at dealing with hate comments; I would reduce them to pixels on a screen until I could convince myself that they weren't even words and get by just fine. It was just slightly more difficult to ignore a random stranger stopping me in the street, demanding to know where 'the other fag' was before deciding I wasn't worth the words and spitting on me.

Fucking asshole.

And yet, maybe he was right. Maybe I wasn't worth it. Maybe the only attention I deserved was scorn and hatred. After all, according to many of the original 'Phil-lions' who had never quite been able to adjust to 'Phil' becoming 'Dan and Phil', wasn't I the one who had desperately latched onto the dreams and success of one of my internet idols before proceeding to fall for him in a way that would never be reciprocated?

No, that wasn't right... If it was, then why would Phil bother to make me push thoughts like this away when he was around? Why wouldn't he just find a more normal housemate? Leave me alone?

Then again... hadn't he? If the asshole was wrong, then why had Phil stayed away for so long, barely remembering to call?

No no no no no. Moving on. Moving so the fuck on. I instinctively hauled myself off of my bed and began setting up my filming equipment, barely paying attention to the familiar task. I listened to what sounded like someone else wave a cheery 'Hello, Internet' as the camera began to record, the voice chattering aimlessly about the holiday season, me cringing internally with every word. Whatever. Better to be on autopilot right now I guess, and making videos at least killed some time otherwise spent completely alone.

Safe to say, I was crap with 'me time'. Where the hell was Phil?

Phil's POV.

Finally finding a seat on the heaving train, I dug my headphones out of my pocket, put the music on my phone on shuffle and tried in vain to stop the impatient tapping of my foot. After two weeks of being pulled in every direction, I wanted nothing more than to go home and settle in for a binge-session of gaming or anime with Dan, who I'd found myself missing more than ever. My best friend never failed to keep me grounded, and without his calming, reassuring nature I'd felt scattered and restless. It was as if I was constantly glancing over my shoulder to share some glance or joke with him before remembering he wasn't here - that sickening, dizzying confusion of missing a step on the staircase. The temptation to continually bombard him with messages was extremely difficult to resist.

Get over yourself Phil, you'll be home soon; no need to be so clingy.

At least that's what I tried to convince myself. Shaking my head slightly and resisting the urge to scoff at my own internal whinging, I turned my music up and attempted to catch a few hours sleep on the rest of the journey. Before I could, an all too familiar alert sound blared through my headphones. Fumbling groggily for my phone, I checked the notification.

It was Dan. Well, 'danisnotonfire', depending on how pedantic you were. Either way, Dan had just uploaded a video on YouTube (I'd been his first subscriber; of course I had notifications set for his channel), as if inspired by my wishful thinking. Fighting back a small smile, I opened the video and waited an age for it to load over my struggling 3G.

I didn't like what I saw.

On the surface, the video seemed innocent enough; titled simply 'The updated truth about December', it could pass as a standard vlog to those who didn't know Dan personally. I on the other hand noticed only the bags under his eyes, the occasional stammer and, most worryingly, the incessant fidgeting. Constantly playing with his hair, scratching at his wrists or neck... It was clear that Dan was agitated to say the least. Luckily, none of his subscribers seemed to have noticed so far as the comments already rushing in were of the usual sort.

If that was the case, maybe I was overreacting. I had a habit of being overly-cautious when it came to Dan as he was crap at alone time/taking care of himself. Maybe Dan's drained and anxious appearance was my imagination, or simply the result of a sleepless, caffeine-fuelled night.

Maybe.

In any case, I could tell the rest of my journey home would be painfully slow.


	2. Chapter 2

**This and all subsequent chapters are dedicated to CrazyBlueOwl, the first to leave a reveiw on this story! Thank you for the lovely comment!:) I promise that after this chapter, things will get very fluffy to make up for the insane amount of angst.**

Dan's POV.

Since uploading the video, I'd done little but pace the apartment in endless circles, deliberately avoiding Phil's room in an attempt to maintain the illusion that he was just asleep on the other side of the closed door. I'd been unable to resist the temptation to repeatedly check my phone for messages or missed calls, so had left it under my pillow on my bed. He probably wouldn't even have decent service.

Or he just didn't want to talk to me. Phil had probably enjoyed the time away, the distance from the people who only saw us as an inseparable single entity.

No. Whatever. _Shut the fuck up, Dan_ , I scowled to myself, noticing just how hard I continued to scratch at my already raw wrists. My hands sprang to my head, fists clenching clumps of hair in an effort to stop myself doing anymore damage to the marked skin.

 _Why? You know it's true; you're a burden to your friends and everyone else who claims to love you. All you do is let them down, Phil, family, the 'fans'..._

'Jesus fucking Christ!' I almost screamed as I clamped a hand over my mouth, spewing a string of unintelligible curses to compliment the hot, angry tears brimming in my eyes.

 _You're a fucking waste of space! Useless, worthless, let down -_

'Nonono...' I mumbled, hands crushed against my ears in an attempt to block out the all-too-familiar internal monologue.

 _Want it to stop? You know what to do, you pathetic bag of crap. Go ahead and see who gives a fuck._

 _'_ No!' I cried, my voice a semi-strangled scream.

Did I know what to do? Of course I did. Was I going to do it?

I didn't know anymore.

The voice - oh, who was I kidding, I - had been demanding that I kill myself for a long time now. Usually, I could ignore the constant attacks, and at times I could go years without seriously considering following the instructions. I would suddenly consider things that made me blanch, like the thought of my Mum, or later on Phil, coming home to a lifeless body, or the endless comments that would flood in asking where I was, left unanswered... Then I would snap out of it, but lately... I'd been fighting random impulses to 'fall' onto the underground tracks, or 'accidently' walk into oncoming traffic.

Right now, the idea seemed appealing. Never had I felt so completely isolated and miserable, so unmotivated.

And I was tired.

So fucking tired.

I felt my limbs go limp as I stood up and struggled to stay upright. There was a strange feeling of detachment as I was propelled almost against my will to the bathroom and my hands shook as I tried to open the cabinet above the sink. Finally, the door was open and I clumsily swept the contents of the shelf into my arms before stumbling back into my room where I let them spill onto my bed.

Pills seemed like the right choice somehow. Less mess.

I almost laughed in spite of myself as I mindlessly tore open the countless packets and bottles of who-fucking-cares what tablets Collecting what seemed like an... efficient handful I felt my shoulders sag with the weight of the small pills. This was it. This was what the shit-storm of my life came down to.

And I honestly couldn't care less.

Phil's POV.

The last few steps towards our front door were the hardest. Heart hammering desperately and lungs crushed by a suffocating fear, I fumbled to unlock it. My key became stuck in the lock, a worrying sign that Dan hadn't opened the door in a few days.

"Goddamn it!" I practically growled in frustration as I struggled to yank the key from the door. I almost fell as it finally gave way to my desperate attempts. Storming up the stairs, I tried to compose myself, not entirely sure why I was fighting such a heavy sense of dread.

'Dan!' I called, my voice betraying my fear as I eventually reached our flat. 'Dan, I'm home!'

No reply.

Each room I searched was empty at a glance, the door wide open - except for his bedroom.

'Dan?' I repeated, not pausing to knock as I barged inside.

The asshole was goddamn doing it.

'Dan!' I screamed, lunging forwards to tackle him to the ground and wrestle the handful of tablets from his clenched hand.

'Hm? Phil?' He mumbled drowsily, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

'Yes, Dan, it's me. What the hell do you think you were doing, you complete and utter twat?!' I demanding, virtually yelling as I gripped his shoulders and pulled his upright.

'What I need to! Just leave me the fuck alone!" he sobbed, trying and failing to push me away from him.

'Not if this is what 's going to happen when I do!' I hissed, furious with him, myself, the whole goddamn world. 'Now this,' I begin, tilting his chin to force him to meet my stubborn gaze, 'never fucking happens again. Ever. If you dare try to leave me alone again -' But I couldn't finish that sentence. Did I need to? Dan should know I would follow him anywhere.

'Then what? You'd be fine. You don't need me.' Dan spat back.

'The fuck I don't!' I snarled, gripping his wrists to stop his continued efforts to shove me out of the way. 'Dan, you are my best friend. Unconditionally. So I repeat: if you ever attempt to abandon me again, I will stop you or die trying. End of discussion.'

'No! Why the hell would you say something like that?' he snapped, giving up his attempts to pummel my chest and collapsing against me.

'Because it's true.' I murmured against his hair, my arms automatically shifting to trap him in a fierce hug. 'Dan Howell, you are amazing. Fact.'

'Bullshit. Phil, you're such... Goddamn you. Hey! AmazingDan,' he mumbled, shuddering with a sudden burst of hysterical laughter. I felt his fingers clutch at the back of my shirt, desperate for something to hold onto, before he seemingly collapsed and was asleep in my arms. More than a little shaky myself, I hauled myself to my feet, shifting Dan's arm across my shoulder, before guiding him into his bed and checking his pulse for good measure. Even that didn't wake him up - then again, Dan could sleep through anything.

And he did.

He slept as I tracked down every last tablet and forced them down the sink; he slept as I screamed myself hoarse and launched plate after plate at the wall; he even slept when I eventually collapsed next to him, too tired to care what he might think when he woke up to discover his hand in mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the wait between updates, think I've finally decided where I want this story to go! Any guesses/suggestions? Also, because I haven't yet : DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dan, Phil or any aspect of their life: this story is completely fictional.**

Dan's POV.

The next few days were a sluggish haze of restless, disturbed sleep. At least, it felt like days: I had no idea how long I'd remained virtually comatose, confused and mostly insensible even when I was 'awake'. During this time, I caught only vague snatches of my surroundings - the soft thud of a mug being placed on top of my drawers, the sound of... hammering, maybe? coming from the kitchen that I would've considered strange had I had the energy, and most of all a pair of gentle hands, clasped firmly in my own or smoothing my hair. With them came a voice, sometimes quietly and other times urgently calling my name, trying to coax me back into consciousness.

I liked the voice. It never seemed to leave me, and I desperately wanted to listen to it, follow it closer until I recognised it - I was just so tired. Paralysed with exhaustion and unable to lift the fog of sleep just yet.

It was the music that worked.

Hesitant at first, faltering and almost timid, the tunes emitting from my piano were not easily discernible in my insentient state. In fact, to begin with, I struggled to identify the playing of music at all, let alone a particular piece. But as the playing grew in confidence... Suddenly, everything was so much more intense, sharp and defined. I could hear the bittersweet longing and grief of the melody, not just meaningless notes. I could feel it, a heart-wrenching cry that twisted my gut. Out of nowhere, I could feel the residue of sunlight struggling through closed curtains, a gentle heat against my eyelids.

Maybe that's why there were tears threatening to spill across my cheeks.

I quickly brushed them away with the hand that had been cupping my face, flexing my fingers against the cramps.

Crap, exactly how long had I been asleep again?

Forcing my eyes completely open, I noticed that the music had stopped.

'Phil?' I tried to call, but my voice, hoarse and thin with lack of use, was barely audible. Rather than make another unsuccessful attempt to raise my voice, I trudged the few steps to the piano and all but fell onto the seat that must have only just been vacated by Phil. Instinctively, my hands reached up towards the keys and I began to replicate the tune I had just heard, one I remembered teaching Phil almost two years ago. They were unsteady, shaken by the occasional small tremor, and unusually skeletal.

Maybe years, I decided. I must have slept for years.

Abruptly, I lost interest in the piano and my hands flew to my chest, my stomach, my back... My body felt gaunt, almost emaciated, with ribs, spine and collarbone more pronounced, From what I could see, my skin was ashen and the throbbing headache could only be a sign of dehydration.

Yep, I'd definitely been asleep for years.

Blinking and stumbling wearily, I conducted a more thorough scan of my room. The curtains were closed, only a small bar of sunlight escaping through the small gap between them, so it must be morning. Aside from the unkempt duvet on my bed, the room was tidy - not exactly how I'd left it when... When I'd tried...

No. I needed to move on, even if that meant temporarily forgetting. I allowed myself three seconds to wallow in the onslaught of emotion - grief, fear, anger, guilt, shock, too many to name. Three seconds with eyes tightly closed, fists clenched and uncertain legs. Three seconds to fall apart.

And then I put myself back together. At least enough to steady my breathing and slow the poisonous memories. Enough to stay upright and open my eyes.

Better.

On my second glance, I noticed a few less conspicuous changes. On the drawers by me bed sat two mugs, one drained and one sporting the lukewarm remains of a fairly fresh tea, and a small selection of breakfast foods: cereal, toast, yoghurt, fruit and, unless I was hallucinating in my malnourished state, a bad of maltesers.

It hadn't escaped my notice that I was also in a clean t-shirt and wearing a pair of cut-off joggers that I had destroyed for use when lazing around the flat, but I preferred not to dwell on the idea of Phil having had to undress me.

Most importantly, however, there was a glass of water on my desk and I reached for it gratefully, hoping it would ease the headache and remove the stale, dry taste in my mouth. As I finished it, I heard the door open behind me.

'Hey, Hobbit-Hair.' Phil said simply, and I could hear it, the familiar, if somewhat forced, cocky, teasing smirk in his voice. Goddamn it, Phil. Always brighter than the freaking sun. Always trying so hard to help everyone up when they fall. How was I supposed to face that, knowing... Knowing that I would never be able to make up for what I put him through. Choking back the lump in the throat, I turned around and tried for a convincing, though most likely wobbly, half-smile.

'Phil, I...' but how the hell could I finish that sentence? There were no words with which to apologise, no words to say just how lucky I was to have someone like him, who I could depend on to be there for me, always.

As it turned out, I didn't have to find any. All of a sudden, Phil had crossed the room and thrown his arms around me, pulling me close and gripping the back of my shirt as though he was afraid I might vanish on the spot. Briefly frozen in shock, it was still just seconds before I found myself falling into the embrace, clasping him as tight as my weak and shivering form would allow me.

'Are you back? Are you really here?' asked Phil, voice muffled against my shoulder. I could only nod, knowing that if I spoke right now, my words would be lost in an outcry of grief. 'Good. Dan, you were so far away... God, I missed you.'

'Phil, I'm... Thank you. Just... Thank you . Thank you thank you thank you.' I mumbled hastily, knowing he would stop me if I gave him the chance.

'Don't thank me - you never need to Dan, not with me. I will always be here for you. Unconditional.'

'Unconditional.' I repeated quietly, more to myself than Phil. A small, shuddering laugh escaped me, almost a sigh. I just couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe I deserved someone so selfless and forgiving in my life, couldn't believe... That I'd let myself forget that someone cared about me. Loved me.

'But Dan... please don't scare me like that again - I'm not strong enough to lose you.'

'You -' but I couldn't let myself finish. What kind of asshole would I be if I tried to dismiss someone's emotions after essentially traumatising them? Instead, I simply shook my head in agreement, a wordless promise: Never. Never again. I felt Phil's tears dampen my shoulder and realised that I meant it, more than I ever had before.

'Why?' Phil suddenly broke the silence, his voice suddenly deadpan and without emotion, like he was scared of the answer. He needed an explanation, and I knew I owed him that at least, but...

'I'm sorry, I can't... Not right now.' I pleaded, stepping back to meet his tortured gaze.

'You're right.' He said, shoulders tense as his arms crossed against his chest. Trying for a sympathetic smile, he added 'I should probably give you some space to wake up properly, get changed, eat or whatever. I'll be in the living room if you need me.

'Wait! Stay, please?' I asked hurriedly, reaching out to grip his sleeve and cringing at the needy tone in my voice. Phil's smile grew slightly wider, a more genuine reaction than the faltering attempt of before, as he turned back and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

'Whatever you need Dan. And when you are ready to talk about it, I'll still be right here. I'll be here so you don't have to be brave.'

But we didn't talk about it. Not in so many words. Instead, a lot remained unspoken, or was said... differently. The words were there in the long hours spent playing mindless video games, in the locks I discovered had been fitted strategically to the bathroom cabinet, or the occasional business card of some therapist or another that would be left against my morning tea, a note along the lines of 'We could go together?' scrawled in the corner. Most of all, it was said in the countless hugs and accidental brushing of hands, designed to reassure both of us, I think, that we were together, safe and supported.

That's not to say neither of us snapped from time to time. Occasionally, I would catch Phil studying the fading marks on my wrists, or, more to my annoyance, he would flat out refuse to leave me alone with nothing to do, choosing instead to force me out of the house for most of the day. When I did, I found myself becoming almost childishly surly, defensive and stubborn, prone to making snide comments that later on would leave me sick with guilt. Worst of all, there were times when I would notice Phil sat alone, eyes glazed over, fists clenched and completely oblivious to the fact that it had gotten dark or that I was stood in the doorway.

I utterly despised myself for that - for breaking my friend's unshakable spirit and leaving that haunted look in his eyes.

But, on the whole... things were better. Infinitely so.

So of course, that's where everything went wrong.

Isn't life just fucking great like that?


	4. Chapter 4

Phil's POV.

For a good few weeks after... After I'd come home, I felt drained. Completely void of energy or motivation. I tried my best for Dan, doing everything I could to show him that I was here and didn't plan on leaving him anytime soon, but it was exhausting. There were times when I could feel myself utterly zoned out, miles away from where I should be, and it was then that the guilt would set in. Constantly gnawing at my insides or hammering inside my skull, refusing to give me a minutes peace, it would remind me that I had no idea what I was doing. That I was completely unqualified and unable to help Dan properly. God knows it was all guesswork, instinct at best. I couldn't shake the overwhelming fear that it would be my fault if he got bad again, that I would never be able to get through to him. Every night, including this one, was sleepless for me now, and I found myself almost involuntarily hugging him or reaching for his hand just to check that he was here, alive.

Exhausting.

So goddamn tiring, being constantly on edge. Constantly terrified that I would somehow fuck things up for him, us... Everyone.

Maybe that was why I became hooked - dependent, actually - on painkillers to get me to sleep. They made everything quiet for just a while, long enough for me to slip into unconsciousness for an hour or two every night.

Maybe that was why Christmas passed unnoticed in our flat. Not a single decoration, phone call or present acknowledged.

And maybe that was why I'd taken to carving into my legs with a small penknife.

Never deep enough to bleed a lot, of course - that would be noticeable. Just enough that it hurt, reminded me not to go easy on myself because I had almost let my best friend die. It was something I never thought I'd do, but I guess life was fucking great like that, wasn't it?

Everything seemed to grind to a halt. I stopped live streaming when the viewers could no longer ignore my bleary eyes or slurred, unsteady movements and the concern became too much.

 _Phillip Lester, get your butt to bed, you look shattered!_

 _Phil, I hope you're ok!xoxo_

 _Phil, are you alright? Quick reminder that you are awesome and we love you!_

No, no I wasn't. If only they knew...

Deep breath. It wasn't their fault. Of course, neither Dan or I had given any hint as to what had happened so all the fans had to go on was that we both looked awful. Most assumed we'd been working too hard on some kind of secret project and 'reassured' us that they were all happy to wait.

I wish.

I tried to forget about it all for just a moment, burying my face in my pillow and scowling as my eyes began to water. Today, like most days, had been endless of hours in which I felt as though I was holding my breath or balancing precariously on a knife edge. Like most days, except there had been an awful phone call with Dan's Mum. who had turned to me when Dan refused to pick up the phone.

I'd had to tell her.

How the hell do you tell a mother her child was so unhappy that he had tried to end his life without a word of warning?

You can't. She won't want to believe it. There'd been tears, of course. Anger - rage, even. Betrayal. Accusation. Most of all, pleading.

'Phil, you have to watch out for him. Don't leave him alone... Let him know that... that we love him. That we're here. And Phil, look after him. Just... Please. He won't let me, but... Somebody's got to take care of him.'

'So I'll quit work and that's what I'll do.' I replied simply, my voice flat and without argument. Like I'd ever give myself or consider any other choice.

And I had quit. Quit filming. Quit the radio show. Quit going live on YouNow after my last attempt at a live stream resulted in my staring wordlessly at the screen for 30 seconds before cancelling it and claiming I had had poor connection. In reality, I just didn't have the energy. I wasn't strong enough to shoulder the weight of Dan's suffering, my growing anxiety and the constant fear of failure on top of well meaning fans.

 _For fucks sake, stop wallowing you self absorbed prick,_ I thought angrily, turning onto my back and resigning myself to another night of staring at the ceiling. Searching for some distraction, some way to keep the panic and confusion at bay, I reached for my phone - just as it lit up, a message on the screen. Who the hell would be messaging me at... 3 in the morning?

Dan, of course.

 _Hobbit Hair: You awake?_

 _Yh. Why?_

 _Hobbit Hair: Can't sleep. Up for a trip next door?_

 _... I guess. Be right there._

But I paused, for just a moment. Why would Dan want me to come to his room in the middle of the night? What would it mean if I went? Did I care at this point how much it would hurt either way?

Honestly? No. Not anymore. Dan wanted me and that was that. I pulled back my duvet and crept out of my room, not sure why I was bothering to be quiet when I knew that Dan was a) awake and b) expecting me. All too soon, I was pushing open his bedroom door and standing in its frame, paralysed with uncertainty for an endless second.

Dan's POV.

I'm not sure why I end up texting Phil. Every night since... he came home, I've resisted the temptation, ignored the childish need to have him next to me, hands in mine or arms pulling me close. Every night I've told myself to get over my own selfish, clingy wants, but I'm done. I'm not strong enough to be alone right now.

I'm not sure I ever will be, and that makes it slightly easier to swallow the sudden rush of panic., shrug off the juvenile impulse to feign sleep when all too soon my door is opened. I bolt upright, running a hand through my hair and bring my knees to my chest as, for an infinite moment, Phil and I are seemingly suspended in indecision, speechless.

Shit.

Have I just completely fucked up?

'Sorry, I don't know why... God, this is fucking stupid... I mean, you don't have to -' I stammer, feeling my cheeks flush in shame and guilt. Phil doesn't deserve this, deserves more than a constant stream of mixed messages.

'Dan, shut up.' He replies bluntly, and even though his voice is rough with fatigue, I can almost hear his eyes roll.

'Right. Sorry. Um, do you want to sit down?'

'No shit Sherlock.' Phil manages, the words almost smothered by a yawn, and I can't help but smile at the familiar note of teasing sarcasm in his voice., 'Move up then.'

So I do, and then he's there, next to me, under the covers and so close that one side of his body rests against mine. He's warmer than me, and I feel an almost uncomfortable heat begin to suffocate us, radiating to my fingertips and washing away every coherent thought until I'm floating, not sure whether my eyes are open or closed, whether or not I am still upright...

I fall into an almost trance-like state, caught between total darkness and dreams so vivid, so perturbing that they may as well have been hallucinations

Bad timing, Dan. I attempt to shake off the drowsiness and force my eyes open, realising as I do that I am lying down, curled on my side with Phil's arm across my shoulder. We are so close that our foreheads may as well be pressed together rom-com style.

Fuck.

I feel my breath hitch in my throat and quickly move my hand to cover my mouth and muffle the exclamation. Of course, it's too late: Phil's eyes fly open, instantly meeting mine as he blinks away the remnants of sleep.

'Another nightmare? You're safe Dan, it's fine. Just go back to sleep. I'm still here.' he murmurs sleepily, seemingly without thinking shifting to pull me closer.

'You are.' I whisper, and suddenly there are tears in my eyes. Through everything, whether or not I have been completely there to appreciate it, he's stayed with me. I will never be able to thank him enough, and I'm so goddamn grateful to have him on my side every time I need him, without question. He's so goddamn selfless, so instinctively caring...

And then I can't seem to help myself. Before I have time to demonstrate any sense of self control, I tilt my head to catch his lips with my own. The tension in every one of my muscles seems to drain as he returns the kiss, our mouths moving together in an unbearably soft, drowsy, clumsy way. My stomach swoops as I sink into the kiss, into his arms, into myself until I couldn't move if I tried and the whole world seems to fall away.

Fuck.

Is this actually happening? What have I just done?

Seized by a sudden sickening panic, I pull away and try and gauge from Phil's expression exactly what's going through his mind. I struggle to rein in the fear that I have just made the worst mistake of my life, but I'm not sure I succeed. I must look mildly horrified because Phil practically recoils, wincing in pain and anguish as I try and fail to meet his gaze or offer any explanation. He doesn't attempt to break the silence, instead hastily throwing back the covers and stumbling from the room and pretending that I didn't see him brushing away the beginnings of tears.

'Phil!' I call after him, knowing that I need to fix this fast. Try and explain that I just got overwhelmed, that I'll understand if he doesn't feel the same... Though it will be torture.

He doesn't reply, and I could've sworn that was the click of our door unlocking.

'Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckshittingfuck.' I can't help but curse violently, realising just how bad this could become. I follow Phil as quickly as I can, tripping over my own feet in my hurry to throw on some shoes and race downstairs, practically sprinting out of our block of flats.

'Shit!' I yell as I stumble out onto the street, no sign of Phil or any idea where he might have gone. A blind terror begins to strangle me and I fight to control my breathing. 'Phil?' I try again desperately, pacing uncertainly before deciding to make a quick circuit of the streets surrounding our building. If I go full circle, I'm bound to run into him, aren't I?

And I'm right.

God I wish I wasn't, but... I'm right.

Around halfway through my hastily planned route, I notice a figure slumped in the entrance of a marrow side street from which a thick, greedy darkness seems to seep.

'Hello?' I call tentatively, briefly scanning the area for anyone else. My pace quickens and within seconds I'm running, praying with every fibre of my being that it will be some random junkie sleeping off a high, anyone but -

'Phil!' I scream, crouching beside him and lifting his head a little to see if he's conscious. At the sudden jolt, he groans and his eyes, for a brief second, open. My legs almost give way, and I feel a dizzying, lightheaded sense of relief. Thank Christ, he's still here. As my heart rate gradually slows, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I am horrified by the bruises covering the ashen skin, sickened by the blood coating his hairline, streaming from his mouth.

Who the hell did this to you, Phil? Why couldn't you wait just one goddamn second?

'Phil?' I try one last time, squeezing his hand and gently shaking his shoulder - but there's still no response. With a strength I didn't know I had, I haul myself up and fold him into my arms, trying not to cause him any further pain as I begin the walk back to our flat. From there, I have already planned without realising, I can safely assess just how badly he's hurt and safely take care of him or call an ambulance if necessary.

Goddamn it Phil, it better fucking not be.

Please wake up. Please don't leave me.


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I think I've finally got Dan and Phil to get their shit together/work through the angst! I was thinking before the story actually progresses, I could take some requests for oneshots? Fluff, angst, just a few chapters of whatever you guys feel like reading. Btw, forgot to mention but I've tried to add some random song lyric & fetus Phan references, so see which ones you can spot!**

Phil's POV.

When Dan kisses me, I almost wonder if it was an accident. It happened so quickly, in the midst of such a heavy, drowsy daze that at first I don't dare let myself believe that this is happening, this is actually happening, oh my freaking God, this is real.

At fucking last.

Practically swooning like I'm a teenager again and this is my first kiss, I'm so unbelievably, greedily, dizzily happy that at first I don't quite register the look on Dan's face as he pulls away. I almost don't catch the fear and shock in his eyes, the panicked pace of his breathing.

Shit.

I have to leave. Now.

 _Shit._

Within seconds, I've managed to stagger out of our flat and down the first few flights of stairs, barely stopping to throw on a battered pair of converse. Dan's probably, now that I think about it - but I can't, not now, now I just have to runrunrun, get the hell away from our flat until the city swallows me whole and I can disappear. Let everything go...

I'm so distracted, that I don't think to be wary of the group at the end of the street, huddled together over some heated exchange. I should. I should've noticed them a lot sooner and given them a wide berth. London was full of groups like that, conducting... business of one kind or another, and if you left them alone, they were happy to ignore you - but I didn't. Instead, I found myself bowling straight past them, deaf to their threats and shouts until they were right on top of my, fists pounding against my face and head and demanding to know what I'd seen. I can't answer; I don't understand what they're saying, don't remember seeing anything, don't know how I'm supposed to form sentences when my brain itself feels battered, beaten beyond use.

It's a relief to eventually pass out.

When I wake up, I can barely think through the deep, throbbing ache in my head. Despite the room being dimly lit - close to utter darkness, even - I struggle to force my eyes open and adjust to the seemingly blinding light. Where am I?

Wake up, Phil. Get your shit together.

Fighting, against the stifling remains of sleep, I realise that I'm in bed. Maybe even home. Except... something seems off. The covers are heavier somehow, and the pillows beneath my head have too much give, making me feel like I'm sinking... Then there's the smell. Vaguely citrusy, all fresh fruit and breezy mornings, with a faint trace of something slightly heavier and sweeter, almost like vanilla...

It smells like him. Like his shower gel. Like that overpriced argon-oil crap he uses on his hair.

Am I in Dan's bed?

My eyes fly completely open and I promptly sit up straight in an effort to take in my surroundings.

Yes. Yes I am.

'Dan?' I begin to call, 'Why am I in your -'

'Thought you'd be pissed if you got blood all over your sheets - I'm the only one that's got spares.' comes a reply from near the doorway. My head whips to the side and I wince as the sudden movement sparks sharp stabbing pains on the inside of my skull - but he's there. Dan. Sat cross legged on his piano stool, elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands as he gives me a quick, teasing, albeit tired, smile. 'Oh, and you might not want to do that.' he adds hastily, 'Doctor said you were fine, but that we'd have to watch for signs of concussion and keep you drugged up for a while. Lucky, really : from the looks of it you just ran into some prats in the wrong place at the wrong time -'

'I remember.' I tell him, more to shut him up than anything else. He's faking fine again, the jokey, sarcastic tone purely for my benefit. Dan's trying to keep things normal, reverting to our usual back and forth of good natured teasing, but I can't stand him having to fake a smile when I do remember. Remember everything.

'You sure? I mean, no offence but you look like crap, I wouldn't stress too much about things like that right now.' he retorts in an attempt to deflect any allusion to what happened before I ran into the aptly named 'prats'.

'Yes I'm sure. I remember you found me, too, so... Thank you. Thanks for looking out for me.' I say with a childish stubbornness that turns into genuine gratitude.

'Always.' Dan replies, dismissing the gesture with a shrug of his shoulders but failing to mask the sincerity in his eyes. And I believe him. I know, of everyone on this planet, he is the one who will have my back at all times, the one who will stay by my side no matter what happens.

'Dan we need to talk.' I blurt suddenly, knowing that I can't keep repressing this shit, that the only way to undo the knot in my stomach is to tell him what has been unspoken since we met.

'Phil, not now. You're in a lot of pain, you need to sleep. This isn't the time for some chick-flick style heart-to-heart.' he argues, pinching the bridge of his nose in feigned exasperation before looking up with a wicked smirk. 'Besides, you're so hopped up on painkillers you sound half drunk - how are you supposed to cope with an actual conversation?' he challenges.

'This isn't the time for joking either Dan.' I scowl, irritated that even now he feels the need to hide behind biting sarcasm and wit, thinks I won't notice the attempts to distract me. 'With all the shit that's happened recently, can't you give me five minutes of actual, serious conversation? There's things... there's things I need to tell you.' I finish, and finally seem to get through to him.

'Ok. I'm listening.' He agrees slowly, and I can feel the worry in his quavering voice, the agitated fixing of his hair. .

'Dan, I can't keep playing pretend anymore. I just need to tell you ... well, I hope you already know, but... Fuck it. Ok. Dan, you are the best person I have ever met in this screwed up world, and every day I find it hard to believe that I ever did anything to deserve someone like you in my life. There is no one else...' but I can't finish. How can I tell him just how amazing he is, how every day I count myself lucky to have some as incredible as Dan to share his adventures with me? There are no words to thank him enough for making me smile everyday. 'I love you Dan. I love you, and I'm so glad that you're next to me in my life.'.

'Phil, I... I thought I'd fucked everything up for good last night. I didn't mean to upset you, I was just terrified that I'd ruin the one good thing in my life, and I was so confused. So fucking confused. You know I love you too, right?'

'Now I do.' I grin, attempting to tease him but I'm smiling so much I trip over the words and it's all I can do not to run across the room and throw my arms around him.

'Well, of course I do. How could I not? I've just never been able to find the words to explain it.' he sighs, shaking his head and running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He stares at the ground in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks and I'm about to call him out on it when his head snaps back up to reveal a devious grin, and he turns on the stool with an exaggerated flourish and wave of his hands. Clearing his throat for dramatic effect, he begins to play a tune I recognise instantly.

 _You are my sunshine_

 _My only sunshine_

 _You make me happy_

 _When skies are grey..._

'Oh, for God's sake... Way to ruin the mood Dan!' I complain, laughing in spite of myself, as I launch a pillow at him and pretend that I didn't miss by miles. 'That is so cheesy!'.

'It's supposed to be cheesy!' Dan smirks, rolling his eyes and spinning back to face me. To add insult to injury, he places his hands together to form a heart in front of his face and suddenly it's 2009 and we've just met and already I know that we are meant to be together, destined for who-knows-what-but-won't-we-have-the-fucking-time-of-our-lives-finding-out?

God I love this boy.

How could I ever have let myself deny it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Short update, but I'm struggling a little bit with this story at the moment... I don't really know where it's going or if it's what you guys want, and I don't want it to drag so meh. Enjoy some more fluff!**

Dan's POV.

I can't believe it. I honestly can't freaking believe it. Literally, what the hell?

Within five minutes of waking up after, oh just being attacked and left unconscious in the street by some random pricks, Phil is not only ok (which, I quickly realise, is all I'll ever ask for the rest of my life) but saying things I've never let myself dream of before. Phil, alive. Telling me he loves me.

Seriously. What the hell?!

For a terrifying second, I think I must be asleep or hallucinating. Hell, for a moment I even wonder if my attempt to... put an end to things was successful and everything since has been the screwed up road leading to my screwed up version of heaven.

But no. This, unbelievable as it seems, is real.

Holy crap, Phil freaking Lester is in love with me!

When I eventually let myself believe it (and even I, cynical as I am, can't doubt the stubborn sincerity in his eyes), I'm so goddamn, over-the-moon, out-of-this-world happy that I have to duck my head in an effort to hide my flushing cheeks and the smile that, try as I might, I just can't seem to shake. Resisting the urge to laugh at just how stupid we've both been, both refusing to acknowledge how strong the bond between us will always be, I realise that it's been too long since I've spoken. I still haven't found the right words to explain to Phil how much brighter he has made my life.

And then it hits me. Maybe it's all the cheesy, trashy fanfiction I read, or the soul-crushing edits on tumblr that make my heart ache, but the song is at my fingertips instantly.

Phil, you are definitely my sunshine.

When he complains, laughing in spite of himself, I shrug in a sorry-not-sorry gesture and wink at him through a hand heart I thought I'd never make again. The racing of my heart, the gooey smile I _still_ can't shake... It's like I'm meeting him for the first time and all I can think to do is cross the room, reach for his hand, pull him out of bed and say, again:

'Hi. So, my name is Dan, Dan Howell and... well, I hope you like awkward fucktards.' I finish with a crooked half-smirk.

'Hi Dan, Dan Howell, I'm Phil - and you sound like my kind of people.' he replies, humouring me, and it makes me smile to know that after all these years, the memories mean just as much to him as they do to me.

'We're such losers.' I laugh, shaking my head and clutching his hand tighter still, for the first time allowing myself to cross a boundary I'd wanted to for years and not pulling back, not desperately trying to keep some distance and spare the pain of not knowing.

'So? I don't care if I'm a loser, and if there's two of us we can be losers together.' he grins, linking the little finger of his free hand with mine.

'Pinkie promise? Really Phil? We're not starting a secret club for hopeless cases here.' I remind him jokingly, still laughing, always laughing with him because it's easy. So goddamn, beautifully easy. I've never really let myself appreciate how effortlessly he makes me smile, how instinctively and naturally he offers support and now that I am... It's so easy, so freaking amazing to let myself feel wanted. To finally relish the fact that I have found a partner in this life.

'Well, I might - and you're not invited anymore.' he taunts in a sing song voice, pretending to push me away before catching me again - and it doesn't surprise me that I'm not scared. Why should I be scared of falling when I know I will always have someone to catch me?

Shit, where did that come from? Someone tells me they love me and I fall apart like the star of a gooey teen romance.

'Thanks, Phil - guess who's not getting the password to my fort?' I counter childishly.

'You don't have a fort.' he smirks.

'I could get a fort. I'd build one specifically so that I could not give you the password to it.'

'Asshole.' he laughs, pulling me close for a hug in an attempt to muffle the sound against my shoulder.

'Yes, but I'm your asshole. Always.' I smirk, stepping away in order to stick my tongue out at him.

'That is the deal, right?' he asks innocently, and suddenly we're both giggling hysterically for no apparent reason other than it's impossible not to.

'I feel like you may actually have concussion - or maybe I'm just horrifyingly sleep deprived.

'Or a little bit of both,' Phil agrees, 'we do look like crap.' he adds, the light-hearted tone vanishing instantly.

'Speak for yourself.' I scoff, unwilling to let myself come back to Earth just yet.

'Dan, seriously, when did you last sleep?' Phil asks, turning me to face the mirror in the corner of the room.

'Does passing out count?' I ask with a dry, colourless laugh. The reflection in the mirror has completely thrown me. and I stare at it, transfixed. Both of us look gaunt, tousled hair and heavy lids contributing to a notably haunted, feral look. Phil's bruised face shows the same signs of neglect as my bloodshot, stinging eyes. Now that I think about it, I genuinely can't remember the last time I slept properly. Since Phil came home and I initially woke up, the only 'rest' I've had is the two or three times a week that I have collapsed, physically unable to run on already spent fumes.

'No Dan.' Phil sighs with exasperation.

'Then I don't remember.' I shrug, trying to play the situation down.

'Not good, Dan. In no way is that acceptable.'

'Well, did you actually expect me to sleep while you were literally unconscious, Phil? Seriously?'

'Yes.' he scowls stubbornly

'Well, then you don't know me for shit.' I scowl right back.

'Dan, you can't constantly refuse to take care of yourself. I won't let you. You know how much I need you.' he insists, torn between pleading and yelling with frustration.

'And you know that you will always be too good for me Phil. I will never deserve you, and I will spend every day trying to show you how grateful I am for the fact that you, god knows why, are always here for me.'

'Dan, you don't owe me anything. If I have to, I will spend every day reminding you that you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think. To me, Dan, you will always be the best person in this world, and you will not throw that away trying to repay a debt that doesn't exist.'

'Winnie the Pooh? Are you for real, Phil? Like, can someone like you actually exist on Earth?' I laugh, shuddering with a sudden exhale of relief and embarrassment. It still hasn't sunk in that someone cares so much about me.

'Yes I'm real.' he laughs in return, seizing my hand and pressing my palm against his chest. 'See? Heartbeat. I'm real, you're real... This is real, and we are alive, together. You don't have to feel lonely anymore, because, well, I don't know... I kind of like you I guess, and that means I'll be sticking around for a while.' he finishes, shrugging with a self-satisfied smirk as he returns to teasing me. All the tension of a minute ago drains away once more, and I think from now on, it won't return. From now on, Phil's right; we are together, and I can finally let myself be happy. Finally let myself breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, I have an addiction to fluffy chapters with shitty/awkward song references so here you go, here's one more - promise it'll be the last if you want it to, let me know if you guys feel like reading something more angsty/dramatic!**

Phil's POV.

'Yes I'm real' I laugh, quickly snatching Dan's hand and placing it against my chest, 'See? Heartbeat.' I continue, grateful that he pretends not to notice when it misses a beat, 'I'm real, you're real... This is real, and we are alive, together. You don't have to feel lonely anymore because, well, I don't know... I kind of like you I guess, and that means I'll be sticking around for a while.' I shrug, making no attempt to hide the smug grin that creeps across my face - and why should I, when Dan returns it with the widest-ray-of-fucking-sunshine smile I've seen on him in a long time?

'Such a loser.' Dan reiterates, a spark in his eyes for the first time in weeks. He looks so much brighter, so freaking alive and wild with his dishevelled curls and impish smile. This is what is I've always loved about Dan: the quite but barely contained sense of excitement and hope radiating from every pore, no matter how unhappy he may feel. A fighter, even if he doesn't realise it.

'Like I said, we'll be losers together.' I smile, letting our hands drop but keeping his in mine.

'Screw that - I'm not losing again.' He scoffs, tone mild and joking but not enough so to counter his fist clenching in my hand.

'Not losing what, Dan?' I ask gently, quickly pressing my nails into his palm in an effort to bring him back - or at least get him to release his grip, which was reaching bear-trap proportions.

'Anything. You, my mind... Just, any of it.' he elaborates, snapping out of his trance and staring at me with an almost unnerving mix of determination and wonder.

'Well, I can't exactly speak for your mind but, I'll go wherever you will go.' I promise, trying to stifle childish laughter as I watch him struggle for a moment to catch on. When he does, I can see the physical pain it causes him to try and decide between face-palming/throwing himself out of the window or humouring me.

He decides on the latter, continuing the lyrics if somewhat reluctantly.

'Way up high?'

'Or down low.' I confirm, winking suggestively.

'Nice, Phil - I feel violated.' he complains, mock retching and embellishing the gesture with an expression of feigned horror.

'I would be offended if you hadn't just declared undying love for me like two minutes ago.' I counter, smirking deviously.

'You started it.' he claims, rolling his eyes and pushing me away with a light shove to the chest.

'You keep telling yourself that.' I say, adopting a mock haughty, holier-than-thou air as I know nothing irritates Dan more than condescension - but I'm not sure it comes across as severe as I mean it too. There's a stupid grin on my face that I just can't fight for more than two consecutive seconds. Get your shit together Phil, stop smiling like some brainless twat.

But I don't. For the next few weeks, I find that my world is full of smiles and laughter, full of teasing, video games, coffee shops, and long nights talking for hours with the brown-eyed boy who, instead of leaving and going back to his room, has taken to sleeping next to me. Curled up against my side.

In other words, life is perfect. Absolutely, what-on-earth-did-I-do-to-deserve-this perfect.

During this time, Dan and I don't really see anyone except each other, and I'm vaguely concerned about how long it takes me to feel even remotely bothered about it. In fact, I'm almost disappointed when he eventually turns to me over breakfast one morning and says:

'I think I 'm going to have to go out tonight.'

'Um, ok, how come?'

'Some reunion thing with the handful of friends I actually managed to make at school.' he shrugs, not seeming particularly excited by the prospect. 'I wouldn't go, but it's the first time we've all been in the same city for years it feels like.'

'Dan, you're allowed to have friends.' I laugh, rolling my eyes like I'm not fighting the urge to sulk childishly and beg him to stay, 'Just go. Have fun.'

'Ugh, fine - guess it was too much to hope you'd fake being ill and give me an excuse to get out of it.' he sighs with an overly-theatrical forlorn expression on his face.

'Yep. I'm going to force you to socialise instead.' I smirk. 'Just stay in touch and let me know if you need picking up.'

'Will do... Mum.' he taunts, rolling his eyes, and I just shrug in an exaggerated I-only-want-what's-best gesture.

The rest of the day passes annoyingly quickly, as we decide to start being productive again and begin filming and editing a video for the gaming channel. All too soon, Dan shuts himself in his room to get ready and heads off, doubling back for a quick goodbye - if a blowing a hasty, flirty kiss from the doorway counts as a goodbye. I lean back to peer through the window and watch him walk down the street for a moment before getting on with editing the video.

It doesn't keep me occupied for long enough. Within the hour, I've finished the video, made myself a sandwich and am trying to watch some TV to shift my focus off of the bizarrely empty flat. It doesn't feel right to be here alone, and I find I can't concentrate on anything for more than five minutes, continually having to remind myself that it will probably be hours before Dan even thinks about coming home.

Eventually though, in the early hours of the morning when I'm debating filming a _Sleepless Night with Phil_ just to pass the time, my phone rings.

'Hello?'

'Phil! Philly Phil Phil.' crows the voice on the end of the line, slurred and sing song as it gives way to a fit of breathless giggles.

'Dan?' I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose as I mentally prepare myself for a... challenging exchange.

'No, 's Nick Minaj' comes the reply that, if it wasn't followed by a stream of clumsy laughter, would be bitingly sarcastic.

'Hi Dan. Good night?' I say pointedly, stifling laughter of my own.

''S'not night, silly. Silly, silly Philly.' he reminds me.

'Sure.' I say, realising that it is in fact just gone three o' clock in the morning, 'where are you?'

'Where am... I, um - oh wait, there's a sign! Um... Oh! You have to guess.' he insists through yet another fit of giggles.

'Oh, for fu... Dan that's not helpful!'

'Fine, there's a Starbucks and a, um, a pub called The Queen something-or-other...' he concedes, rattling off the name of everything he can see. It's enough to let me narrow down the location, and I'm glad to hear it's fairly close to home.

'Ok, stay there, I'm getting a taxi and I'll come and get you.' I say, emphasising each word as I would if giving instructions to a hyperactive child.

'Fine fine. Fiiine. I'll stay. I'll just wait here.' he replies, and there is the scrambled, confused sound of him dropping his phone.

'Dan? Dan? No? Ok.' I sigh, hanging up as I accept that it would probably take him as long to find and pick up his phone as it would for me to go and get him given his current state. Already fully dressed, I'm down the stairs and in a taxi within five minutes, and by half past three we come to the road that Dan should be on.

Key word: _should._

Frowning slightly as I wonder if I read Dan's drunken clues wrong, I ask the driver to do a quick circuit of the surrounding streets before deciding I may as well call Dan again.

Voicemail. Of course.

'Sorry about this,' I begin as the driver reluctantly begins the circuit again, 'I'm sure he's just - wait, there he is!' I say, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the sudden relief and excitement in my voice. Dan is at the end of the road, most likely having wondered into a shop somewhere on a whim whilst he was waiting. He spots us and practically jumps on the spot as he waves us down. 'Thanks!' I say to the driver, passing the money across now as a signal that he's free to go - having seen Dan and the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, I'm suddenly not sure that I'd trust him in a confined space like a car. We're better off walking back together.

'Dan, when I tell you stay where you are, will you please try at least to stay in one place for longer than thirty seconds?' I scold, unable to imitate true anger as I can't help but laugh when I see him stumble towards me, smiling automatically even in his intoxicated state.

'Don' no wha' you're on about.' he claims, the bottle slipping from his hand as he reaches me and makes a grab for my hand.

'Really? That's convenient.' I snipe, taking his other hand so that I can prop him up better.

'Wow, such bitchy, very scowl, much pissed.' he slurs, again laughing hysterically at his own joke.

'Dan, I think out of the two of us, you're the one that's pissed right now.' I counter, turning to shift one of his arms across my shoulders and get him to start walking forwards - but he's faster than I account for and suddenly he's twisting further, lifting our hands above our heads and twirling before taking hold of both of my hands once more and spinning us both.

'Shut up and dance with me!' he sings - or attempts to, obviously tripping over the words a little.

'I'll shut up when you stop trying to pull me over!' I laugh, tugging his hands enough to pull him against me and wrap my arms around him - more to keep us both upright than anything.

'Never!' he cries as he collapses against me, seemingly unsteady on his feet.

'Dan, what are y-' I begin, but answer my own question when one of his feet finds and hooks around my ankle, jerking suddenly so that my legs give way beneath me and before I know it we're a tangled heap of limbs on the grimy London street.

'Ha!' he exclaims in victory, giggling as I struggle to right myself. For all my effort, I can't change the fact that he's on top of me and strong enough to reach over and pin my arms by my side. 'Got you.' he murmurs, hair, skin and even eyes gleaming a soft gold in the streetlight.

'Always. We've already gone over this Dan.' I remind him, forgetting for a moment about the grubby pavement and the fact that people could walk by and see us.

'Not enough. I don't believe you.' he insists as he leans down to kiss me, hungry and clumsy and needy. His hands shift, one cradling my face and the other in my hair.

'Dan, for God's sa-' I mumble against his lips, but the words are lost as I give in to the kiss. After all, I'm as needy as him, unable to resist being so intensely wanted by someone and desperately trying to pull him closer with a hand at the small of his back and the back of his head. This is only the second time I've really kissed him, and already I'm addicted. The swooping in my heart and stomach, the woozy, giddy, happiness flooding through me... I can't wait, need a hit, need more, more, more even as the kiss deepens and I begin to realise I'm losing my head, because I don't care, I don't care. Too high, can't come down but I don't care enough to want to. I just want to spend eternity with my fingers tangled in his hair, breathless and burning all over, the endless craving never quite satisfied. He moans against my mouth and I feel myself disintegrate, melt into him as all feeling in my limbs is lost.

'Iloveyou.' he murmurs breathlessly, the words seemingly torn from him in a single exhale as he pulls away. 'IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyo-' but I cut him off, bringing our lips together one final time for an achingly sweet, lingering kiss.

'Love you more.' I smile, gently pushing him upright with a hand to the chest and using the other to support myself in a sitting position.

'Not physically possible.' Dan argues, all but panting as his heart rate, like mine, slowly returns to normal.

'We have the rest of our lives to argue about this,' I point out, hauling us both to our feet and keeping hold of his hand to make sure he stays there, 'but right now we need to go home.'.

'Home.' he agrees slowly, still seemingly speechless. Under normal circumstances, I know he'd resent the forty five minute walk, but right now, I don't think either of us would rather be anywhere else than under the haze of city lights, the world almost silent, holding its breath so as not to interrupt our mindless chatter as we walk so close together that we stumble over each other's feet and have no choice but to throw an arm around each others shoulders.


	8. Chapter 8

Dan's POV.

Everything is hazy and infuriatingly slow, like I'm wading through water or stuck behind a pane of thick glass. It's as though I can't make sense of anything, my thoughts and words scrambled, the sights and sounds around me unfamiliar and alien - until, that is, I see him. As soon I see Phil walking towards me, the world seems a just a little bit clearer.

Clear enough to see that he's mad. Or trying to be at least, if the poorly concealed smile is anything to go by.

Before I realise what I'm doing, I rush to meet him and throw myself into his arms. He keeps pretending to be cross with me, but I can't stop myself from trying to elicit more of his semi-stifled laughter. When Phil laughs, the world forgets why the sun still bothers shining.

Jesus, he's so fricking adorable. Suddenly I can't stand it anymore, he's too good, too perfect, and it makes my heart ache to know that he's mine. Mine, mine, mine and thank fuck because I couldn't control this want if I tried, need him more than I've ever needed anything before. He's my drug of choice and abruptly I know that if I don't get my next hit now I might forget how to breathe.

Before I have time to think about my actions, I find that I've wrestled Phil to the ground and brought our lips crashing together. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that I should be ashamed of such a desperate, needy attack but as Phil returns the kiss I feel my head swim and my insides fall to pieces like there isn't anything left in me so I don't care, don't care, don't care. Instead, I forget everything but Phil and focus only on the craving for _moremoremore_. I feel something inside me crumble and for some reason I feel like crying or laughing because I still can't believe that this is real.

'Iloveyou.' I hear myself say and then I can't stop, the words torn from me in a breathless rush. It's not what I mean to say - what I'm trying to say is thank you, thank you for saving my life, thank you for sharing your crazy life with me and thank you for being the best human I will ever have the fortune to meet - but I guess it sums things up well enough.

Out of nowhere, we're on our feet, arms draped around each other's shoulders. I must have been so wrapped up in my thoughts (or more likely just drunk; drunk on alcohol, drunk on Phil...) that I can't quite remember how we ended up on our way home, stumbling down the street. The city seems hushed, almost as if it doesn't dare interrupt us. I try to wake myself up a little by making aimless conversation, knowing that whilst I would trust Phil with my life in a heartbeat, he doesn't deserve that burden just because I got pissed and that he needs to be able to have the same faith in me. Besides, I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to him because I was senseless and stupid and drunk.

It's for this reason, I tell myself, that I decide to lead Phil away from our flat and towards Hyde Park. Better to spend the last few hours of darkness somewhere well known, public and, hopefully, secure, than stumble across the streets at my slow, unsteady pace. That, and I know that if we go home, he'll just tuck me into bed and I won't be able to help falling asleep. I don't want to sleep. If I sleep, I'll just have the same recurring nightmares of Phil not getting home in time that day, or of the idiots in the alley killing him rather than just knocking him unconscious. No, I don't want to sleep. I want to stay up and talk to Phil, for as long as I can about whatever he wants.

'Dan, where are we -' he begins, understandably concerned about following someone who's nowhere near sober.

'Hyde Park - if you want that is. I just, yeah, um, I don't want tonight to end yet ...Come with? Please?' I finish, rambling.

'Sure. No, you're right, tonight... Tonight should not be missed out on.' Phil agrees with a faint, shy smile that turns my thoughts into nothing more than white noise.

'Same page then.' I confirm, and neither of us really say anything after that until we get to the park. When we arrive, I choose a relatively dry patch of grass beneath a tree and lie down, pulling Phil down next to me so that we lay side by side, hand in hand. For a long moment, we simply stare at the sky, the starless, uninterrupted sheet of black like a chalkboard waiting to be drawn on. I used to miss the stars, resenting the light pollution in the city, but now I see that the faintly shimmering darkness can be soothing - besides, why would I need the stars when they're trapped in the eyes of the man by my side?

'You're beautiful.' I blurt suddenly, forgetting for a moment to be embarrassed by the faulty filter in my brain. Phil just laughs, dismissing my 'drunken' outbursts.

'And you're more drunk than I thought.'

'Hardly. Strike one, Sherlock, I'm just putting it on so you'll think I'm adorable.' I try, knowing there's no way my slurred words won't give me away.

'I wouldn't put it past you, drama queen.' he scoffs, rolling his eyes in a gesture too fond to be insulting.

'That's rude. Just take the damn compliment, Phil.'

'I might... If you were sober.' he counters, but the laughter that goes with it is somewhat wistful or sad.

'I don't need to be sober to tell you I love you, asshole.'

'I know; it would just be nice if you were completely functional.' he grins.

'You know, you should be flattered, I mean, even when I'm mostly out of it the first thing I know is that I love you and that I want to tell you so.'

'True, true - you're lucky you're so skilled in bullshit, otherwise you'd never dig yourself out of these holes.' Phil glares pointedly before turning to look back at the blank-slate sky. 'But I feel like you're the kind of person who falls in love with everyone once they've had a drink.' he adds, a little more seriously.

'No, I don't think so.' I say defensively, scowling childishly. 'I can honestly say I've only ever been in love twice in my life.'

'If you say so... Wait, twice?'

'Yes, you, obviously, and... well, actually the first time was more of a crush I guess... I was only six or seven so I'm not entirely sure what to call it, but it was a boy I met here actually.'

'Are you serious?' Phil asks, torn between intrigue and disbelief.

'Yes, completely. He was older I think... I never actually found out how old he was, or even got his name, I just know that he was made of gold and that whatever pencil had been used to colour in the sky had been used for his eyes, too. I ended up calling him Michael in my head, because to me he was too perfect, too unearthly to be anything other than an angel.'

'Blonde hair, blue eyes? Honestly, didn't realise you were so mainstream Dan.' Phil laughs, curiosity winning out over any momentary jealousy.

'I don't even care, I thought this boy was an angel at first, and that's not even an exaggeration.' I say earnestly, the memory vivid even now. 'Me and my family had come to London for a weekend in the summer holidays, and ended up having a picnic... somewhere over there, though I guess that's not the important part.' I say gesturing towards a clump of trees on the opposite side of the park.

'So, if you were with your family, how did you meet this boy?'

'Patience, grasshopper, let me tell the story! I'd gotten bored and ended up near the fountains, mainly to keep cool I think, but ended up too close to a bunch of older kids. Thinking back, they were probably just scrawny jerks like me, but at the time they were terrifying. They thought it would be hilarious to try and steal me t-shirt, my shoes, whatever they could get a hold of, to put it in the water. I ended up running in flat out circles just to avoid getting beaten up.' I explain, shaking my head a little because somehow the memory seems both distant and raw.

'Don't tell me it was one of those idiots, please,' Phil begs, covering his face with his palms as though bracing himself for the answer.

'Of course not, give me some credit, Jesus!' I laugh. 'No, definitely not. When they eventually caught me, I don't think they actually knew what to do. It was like, as soon as the chase was over they had no idea how it was supposed to finish. Before they got a chance to decide, the other boy came over and started talking to me, completely ignoring everyone else. At first I thought he was crazy because he was asking me to autograph his t-shirt or something, trying to convince everyone I was 'that kid from that film', you know 'so-and-so's kid off the telly', but suddenly all of them stopped looking at me like I was a piece of shit and some of them even followed the older kids lead and asked me to sign their clothes.' I say, giggling at the idea that seems so absurd now.

'Your hero, a certified expert in child mob psychology.' Phil smirks.

'Clearly. But, even when they left... He stayed. He didn't look lost like I did, and I'd seen him leave a group of his own friends to come and rescue me, but he stayed with me. He didn't leave me and I adored him for it because it wasn't because he felt bad... He seemed to actually like spending time with me, For the rest of the afternoon, we talked and played stupid games, swapped playing cards and favourite songs... it was the first time I'd gotten on so well with someone my own age, and when I realised he was also staying in the city over the weekend, we planned to convince our parents to come back the next day so we could meet up again. He gave me this super-nerdy laser pen that showed a picture of the solar system when you shone it in the dark too, so that I had to come back and give it back to him.'

'But... you didn't, did you? Go back, I mean.' Phil prompts gently, guessing from my longing tone that the story didn't end well.

'No. My Mum felt sick so we ended up having to leave early the next day. I think I cried a little bit if I'm honest... It made it seem as though he wasn't real, like I'd just dreamed the whole thing.' I sigh, swallowing back a wave of sudden bitterness and guilt.

'Shit, Dan that's actually heartbreaking!' Phil exclaims, placing a fist over his chest and pretending to rip out his heart for emphasis. 'But, you had the pen right? That's proof that you didn't make friends with a ghost or something at least, doesn't it?'

'Yeah, of course - it's only little so I've kept it on my keys... Wait, hold on...' I say rummaging through the pocket of my jacket. 'Yeah, here it is!'

'No! Are you serious?' Phil laughs in shock as I unclip the keychain and pass it to him.

'Deadly. Awesome, right?'

'Definitely!' comes the reply as Phil moves to hand it back.

'No, you keep it. It feels right, like I've come full circle somehow... He was the first one to steal my heart, but you've claimed it forever. So, yeah. It's yours.'

'Thanks Dan, that's... I get how much this must mean to you.'

'You mean more.' I shrug, turning onto my side in order to meet Phil's gaze with a quick smile

'Than?'

'Anything.' I say simply, rolling my eyes at his transparent attention seeking.

'Good. Just checking.' Phil replies with a crooked smirk.

'By the way, Phil?'

'Yes?'

'See the initials on the side on the pen? M.L.?'

'Yeah? Must've been the first letters of the kids name.' he says with an attempt at nonchalance.

'Mm-hm. Don't steal your brothers stuff... Michael.' I scold, looking straight at Phil in order to gauge his reaction. Shock, at first, followed closely by guilt, denial and then acceptance. The thought process oh 'Crap, you caught me'.

'Hey, you stole it too!' he points out, a sheepish smile complementing the faint flush in his cheeks.

'You gave it to me!'

'Yeah, when I thought I'd get it back!'

'Hey, you did, didn't you? Nearly two decades later, but still.' I laugh, flashing my smuggest, cockiest grin. 'Were you ever going to tell me?' I ask before it slips my mind.

'I didn't know. Not until you started telling the story at least, but... probably not. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to figure out.' he shrugs unapologetically.

'Cos that's completely fair.' I snort in derision. Phil just shrugs again in reply, the pen clutched in the fist that supports his head and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Giving up, I let it go and simply stare at him, transfixed by his silhouette against the gradually lightening sky.

'In my book it is. But... it makes you feel like believing in fate, doesn't it? Destiny and all that crap.'

'Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Either way, I think it's safe to assume that we were always meant for each other.' I say, suddenly feeling blissfully lazy and content. I could stay here forever in this wide open park beneath the wide open sky and cover every surface with our story.

'Predestined, in every way, in every life...'

'In every universe.' I finish, reaching to grasp his hand as I heave myself upright. 'Home?'

'Yeah, let's go. I feel kinda drained.' Phil agrees, and we trudge groggily back to flat where, after attempting to make myself a coffee to completely sober myself, I collapse on the sofa. When I eventually wake up and shuffle to my bedroom, I find a child's t-shirt folded at the foot of my bed, a hasty, unsure signature that reads 'D.H.' scrawled in marker pen in the corner.

He kept it. After all these years...

'Dork.' I smile to myself, studying the familiar writing and losing myself in sugar-sweet memory once more. Phil, then, is the only person I've ever fallen in love with. All my heart. Always.

I didn't think that kind of fairytale shit was possible for me, but...

Isn't life just fucking great like that?

 **Hope you enjoyed this, the fluffies of fluff:) So, I was thinking of writing the childhood-Phan-meet as a one-shot for the next chapter, if you guys would be interested in reading that? Then continue with the story and maybe return to a little bit of angst, seeing as Dan and Phil have had it a little too perfect recently? *evil laughter***


	9. Chapter 9

**CHILDHOOD PHAN ONESHOT BONUS CHAPTER!**

 **Based on the little story I had Dan tell Phil in the last chapter, I thought I'd write a quick fetus-Phan oneshot before carrying on with the actual story - feel free to skip, it was just for fun! Oh, and I'm sorry for the insane amount of spelling mistakets, etc., in this story, I write most of it quite late when I'm too tired to concentrate, so I may have to update the previous chapters with gramatically correct versions at some point...**

'Bye Mum!' Dan called, racing away from his parents across the open stretch of grass. It wasn't that the picnic was boring exactly, just... too quiet. Dan's mind had always been too loud, too fast for normal stuff like that, and all he wanted to do was run until it hurt to breathe and he felt like he could jump right up into the clouds. Being somewhere so busy only made it worse and he felt like he had to outrace what was going on around him, beat all the noise and strange people.

His legs seemed to have other ideas. He felt them tighten painfully, suddenly unable to move properly, before he sat down hard on the ground.

'Ow.' he whinged to himself, trying to stretch his legs out and stop the... the... cramps, were they called? Yeah, cramps. Whatever they were, it hurt, and Dan was so distracted that at first he didn't notice the group of older kids walking towards him.

'Hey! What are you doing on the floor, tramp?' one of called out, his lip curling in a well-practiced sneer. Dan tried to ignore him and the hoots of laughter from his friends, quickly scrambling to his feet and moving to walk away.

'He's talking to you!' cried one of the girls in the group, folding her arms across the frilly top of a pink dress that made her sickly sweet appearance all the more unsettling.

'I just fell over. I'm going to go now.' Dan mumbled, trying not to make eye contact as he quickened his pace.

'Why? We want to play.' said the first one, lunging forwards to push Dan back onto the ground.

'I have to go.' Dan repeated, hurriedly getting back onto his feet and running, not bothering to pretend that he wasn't scared anymore.

Bad decision. There was a chorus of incredulous laughter and the older kids followed suit, determined to chase Dan down.

'Go away!' Dan screamed, blinking back tears of terror as they began to yell at him, threatening to steal his stuff, hit him, kick him. It had never occurred to him before that kids could be so horrible and mean it, and the fear building in his mind made him feel dizzy, like he might be sick.

'Scared, baby?' taunted the girl again, earning another round of cheers from her friends and an approving look from the leader.

'No. No, I'm not.' Dan tried to tell himself through gritted teeth, but it felt as though his heart was about to beat through his chest and he knew that any moment - 'No!' he cried as his legs crumbled beneath him, sending him sprawling across the grass. He tried to get up, wishing that he'd run in the direction of his parents, but was too slow. Before he knew it, he had been rolled onto his back with a sharp kick to his side that made him hiss at the pain and effort of holding back tears. In seconds, the rest of the group was gathered around him, blocking the sun itself as they crowded together for a better look at the helpless kid at their feet. Dan tried to control his breathing, eyes wide and wild with fear as he resisted the urge to curl in on himself.

'Caught you!' they crowed seemingly in unison. aiming a few other kicks at his shins for good measure.

'Stop!' Dan yelled with the last of his energy, slowly realising that there was no way he could beat all of them. If they wanted, they could keep him on the ground forever.

Except, they didn't seem to know what they wanted. Dan noticed that in between the occasional kick to his head or legs, they were ignoring him, instead mumbling uneasily among themselves. Maybe they hadn't actually caught anyone before, or maybe they were taking note of just how many people there were in the park that could get them into trouble. The girl in the dress kept looking behind her, as if worried that someone would come over, and she was right to, because all off a sudden -

'Hey! What're you playing? came a cheery voice from somewhere to Dan's right. It sounded different to the others, so Dan guessed that, like him, the newcomer was not from around here. He tried to focus on the faces above him, and noticed a boy around the same age of the others force his way into the crowd. Automatically, and before any of the others had time to react, he reached down to grab Dan's hand and pulled him up.

'Thanks.' Dan muttered grudgingly, feeling his cheeks burn for no apparent reason as he attempted to busy himself by dusting off his jeans.

'No problem. Wait, oh my God! Wow, you're - you're really him aren't you?' exclaimed the new boy, staring at Dan like he was the only one worth the effort.

'Really who?' Dan asked, feeling his eyes narrow in suspicion and taking a small step back from the weird new kid.

'The kid in that new movie! The one about ninjas or something like that. I've seen you on the posters, one was on the side of our bus this morning!' He said earnestly, looking straight at Dan and giving a nod so small that Dan almost missed the message: _just go with it, you idiot._

'He's not in any films!' scoffed someone in the other group.

'Yes he is! I remember because my Mum thought he looked like one of my friends from school. Wow, it must be ace to be in a movie! I bet you had to learn loads of cool stunts.' the boy insisted before turning back to Dan, dismissing the others seemingly without a thought. At first he had done so just to try and make a point, to show that the bullies were worth a lot less than the boy they were picking on, but now he finds himself actually interested in this younger kid with dark curls and hot-chocolate eyes.

'Yeah, it was pretty weird but so much fun! I had to learn how to use those big swords and one of the guys thought I was so good that he taught me all these tricks with back-flips and stuff.' Dan says, catching on and shrugging as though his apparent stardom was no big deal.

'Awesome! Hey, can I get your autograph?' the new boy blurted suddenly, pulling a pen from his pocket and passing it to Dan.

'Sure - but I haven't got any paper.' Dan replies. The boy, who Dan could now see had hair that shone an unnaturally gold colour, just shrugged and held out the hem of his t-shirt for Dan to sign instead. Hand shaking uncertainly and struggling to hide a goofy smile, Dan quickly wrote his initials and reluctantly handed the pen back.

'Hey, I want one too!' exclaimed one of the other kids, almost against her will by the way she clapped her hand against her mouth.

The blonde boy flashed Dan a smug grin and gave the pen back once more, and soon they were the only two left, the others having gone after getting autographs.

'Am I a genius or what?' he laughed giving a sweeping bow to an imaginary adoring crowd.

'Or what.' Dan said, catching himself and rolling his eyes before he could humour the boy with a round of applause. 'But thank you.'

'No worries. They were idiots, and I didn't want you to have to hit them back.' came the reply, and Dan smiled at that, grateful that he was willing to pretend that he could've taken them on himself. It made him feel like a superhero, and his shy smile didn't go unnoticed by the older boy, who felt his own lips twitch in response.

'Yeah, it would've just gotten me in trouble.' Dan sighed, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his parents and rolling his eyes like _honestly, what can you do?_

'My parents are the same.' assured his new comrade, and Dan decided that with his yellow hair and eyes that match the sky, the boy looks like the angel in the stained glass window of the church near his school... Michael. Michael was the angel's name. In fact, Dan forgot to ask for the boys real name it fits him so well, though he is careful that he doesn't use the nickname out loud as they while away the afternoon playing dumb kids games and scribbling on each other's arms a list of songs to listen to, films to watch, foods to try... All their favourite things (Dan found it difficult to come up with ideas, they had so much in common already). Soon, they were both covered in ink, hair tousled and cheeks rosy from the heat of the summers day that neither wanted to end, but before they had time to say goodbye properly, Dan's parents began calling him back.

'I've got to go.' he said sadly, feeling a sudden rush of anger at his parents that made him want to stamp his feet like a toddler.

'Yeah, me too I think. But, we'll try and come back tomorrow, right?' asked his friend.

'Definitely!' Dan agreed fiercely, for the moment ignoring the likelihood that his parents would say no.

'Ok! But, just to be sure... Here, take this. Now you have to come back.' came the triumphant reply as 'Michael' rummaged through his pocket and brings out the pen Dan used to give autographs earlier, presenting it with a theatrical flourish to the younger boy.

'I will.' Dan promised, beaming wider than he ever has before. Clutching it in his small fist, he runs towards his parents, turning back to wave a quick goodbye - but the blonde boy is gone, having returned to his own parents.

'Who was that, Phil?' they asked, noticing the wistful smile on their sons face.

'A friend.' Phil said, wanting to preserve the memories for himself. That day had felt important somehow, like the beginning of something, and Phil wanted to keep his new friend to himself, worrying that if he shared him it would all feel like a dream. 'A friend.' he said again with a little more confidence, not entirely sure why he believed the words so much, but doing so because it was the first time he'd been so certain of anything in a while.


	10. Chapter 10

**So, I think I've killed enough of you with cute fluff feels, so I've decided just to poke and prod at Dan and Phil's happy little bubble... enjoy! P.S: I promise I will stop spamming you with updates, I've just been really inspired today, but have now gotten to a stage where I have no idea what to do with the story, so... oops! Any suggestions?**

Phil's POV.

Over the next few days, the dust of the last two months seems to settle, and whilst I'm glad that Dan and I have finally worked through everything, I'm shocked to realise just how much we've neglected in order to do so when over dinner he says quietly,

'Phil, we missed your birthday.'

'Hm? Wait, we missed what?'

'Your birthday. We missed the anniversary of your actual goddamn birth, Phil. And Christmas. And God knows how many radio shows we've skipped out on at this point.' He continues, fists clenched as he stares at the table in disbelief.

'Dan, stop a minute. Just breathe. Why has this upset you so much?' I ask, sensing an oncoming outburst.

'Because I've taken over your life! In just a couple of months I've managed to fuck everything up because I can't deal with my own shit like a normal human!'

'Dan, this is ridiculous. You've had to deal with more shit in the last few months than most people do in years. We both have. Do you honestly think it matters to me or anyone else if we've had to take some time out? That it wasn't worth it?'

'Phil, when was your last live show?' Dan asks in the same slow, tired tone of someone near breaking point. 'When did you last upload a video, not counting random collabs that you've had stashed for a while?'

'I don't... I don't know!' I say defensively.

'Ok, yes or no then: was it or was it not before you came home... around Christmas?'

'You mean was it prior to me coming home minutes away from finding the dead body of my best friend? Obviously. I'm human. Videos haven't exactly been my highest priority lately.' I seethe, my voice biting and acidic.

'My point exactly. I've been keeping you from your life.' he states, deadpan. I know from experience that that's not a good sign; Dan's prone to implosion, bottling everything up until he reacts violently inwards.

We're the same that way.

'Dan... Fuck, how do I say this? You _are_ my life, but that's my choice. If I choose to focus on us, then that's what I want, and if I don't want to film my life when it feels like it's being tossed around like a kids toy, then that's my choice too.'

'Phil, what you're describing... it's withdrawal, denial. I need to know that I'm not toxic or whatever. Can you promise that being with me makes you happier than you'd be if things were the same as before?'

'Of course, Dan! There's nothing you could do to ever make me resent you or fall out of love. This is forever. The last couple of months... Just the shaky start to a new chapter.' I shrug, keen to move on and drag us both out of this pit before we've dug ourselves too deep.

'Are you sure? Phil, I'm worried about you.' he murmurs, reaching across the table to hold my hand. 'I worry about bringing you down.'

'Dan you couldn't if you tried.' I say, trying for as reassuring a smile as possible.

'Prove it.'

'How?'

'Let's go film a video. Right now.'

'Have you actually thought this through? Got an idea in mind, or...?'

'Let's do... Ah, I know! Let's do a 'How to Get Inspired' or something on my channel. If we talk about procrastination, video ideas, distractions, stuff like that then we can tie it in to why we've been so inactive lately. It's a start at least, and we don't even have to post it if you don't want.'

'Fine. Fine, let's do it.' I consent reluctantly.

'Awesome!' Dan smiles, clearing our plates and leading me to his room to help set up the camera, lights and microphone. When everything's ready, we place two chairs at his desk, take our seats and start filming.

'Hello Internet, long time no see! To help me make up for it, I've brought along everyone's favourite guest, AmazingPhil! Hi Phil!' Dan begins in his usual breezy tone.

'Wotcher, Danny Boy' I say, smiling knowingly at the camera - in his latest Internet Support Group, Dan had an email from a fan who called him that, and his viewers will get a kick out of me using it to make him cringe again.

'Did you just?' Dan groans, face-palming - always hamming it up for the camera. I hate to admit it, but he's right: already the familiarity of this routine makes me feel calmer, lighter. 'Seriously, there's the window, how many times am I going to have to tell you to jump out of it?' he jokes. reaching over to push me off my chair.

'Up to you; I don't think either of us are going to get our way.' I laugh, as I manage to stop myself from falling completely. 'So, Dan, what are we doing today?' I ask, turning to look at him - but he's in the middle of turning the camera off. 'Dan, what are you -'

'Phil, stop.' He says, sitting back in his chair and after an agonising moment shifting to face me. 'What the hell are those marks on your legs?' he breathes, visibly shaking as he works to contain rage or grief.

'What? Shit.' I say as I look down at my lap. Stupidly, I've worn cut-off joggers all day, seeing as we've just been lazing around the house, but as I fell they must have ridden up because visible just above my knees are the first few rows of scars. Furious and dreading what's about to come, I tug at my clothes until I'm as covered as I can be.

'Phil, where did you get those scars?' Dan presses, clutching the sides of his chair as if he might fall off otherwise.'

'Dan, they're old. Years old, back from before uni -'

'Don't bullshit me Phil!' Dan snaps, 'They're fresh... Raw. Weeks old, if that. Jesus... Fuck! What the actual fuck?'

'Dan, it's not like I planned to! I got lower than I ever thought I could and did something stupid. It won't happen again. End of.'

'No, Phil. Not freaking 'end of'. You... you could've died! This kind of crap doesn't just go away when you think you feel better... I mean, why - Shit. It was me, wasn't it? You did this... because of me.' he finishes, practically spitting the words at first, but midsentence turning deathly pale, a queasy sheen on his skin like he's gone into shock or wants to throw up.

'No, Dan! Not because of you. Because... Because I thought I'd lost you, and I was scared and -'

'You got addicted.' Dan finished. 'Maybe I didn't push you off the cliff, but I may as well have walked you to the edge. Fuck!' He screams through gritted teeth, standing up, knocking his chair across the room and racing out of the door. I'm about to rush after him when I hear the click of the bathroom lock followed by the unmistakable sound of retching. Instead, I opt for pacing Dan's room, throwing open the window to let some air in because my lungs are caving in and I can't breathe properly.

Shit, this is bad.

After the longest few minutes of my life, Dan re-enters his room. Well almost - he seems glued to the doorframe, unable to meet my eyes or come any closer.

'Phil, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I did this to you and didn't notice until now. I think... I think it's best for you if I give you some space. I'll still live here, and I'm more than happy to be your friend and help you through this if you'll let me, but it's pretty clear that I'm not good for you. I hate to see you hurting, so as long as I'm the reason you're in pain, I'll keep my distance.' he whispers to the ground, and though he won't look at me I can hear his tears in the tremor of his voice, see his pain in the way he wraps his arms across his chest, holding himself together.

'Dan, please don't. Please don't do this.' I beg feeling tears brim in my eyes as it gets even harder to breathe. 'You're more than good for me, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. If you leave, I don't know I'll keep myself together, so please... Please, stay.'

'Phil, I...' a strangled cry escapes Dan and for a moment, I think I've won because he crosses the room, seizes both of my hands and kisses me hard. Desperate, like me, but fresh and clean and pure, the taste of toothpaste on his lips. But just as I let myself hope, he pulls away, places a palm against the side of my face and says, 'I can't. I can't break you anymore than I already have.'

'You didn't, Dan. You didn't break me. You fixed me.' I sob, looking up to meet his gaze only to find that he's gone. I hear his footsteps in the office and with every one something inside me snaps until I'm not sure how I'm even still standing. Out of nowhere the pain gives way to numbness and I find myself mindlessly trudging into my own room - until I'm suddenly spilled out across the floor, unsure at what point the world rotated. Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling, thinking that I must've fallen over and that's why there's a pain and slight dampness spreading along my arm but deciding that I don't care either way. It doesn't matter. Not important, not worth thinking about...

Is anything?

Does anything actually matter anymore?


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNING: majorly depressing short chapter because a) I can't quite figure out how to get them to resolve things again and b) I tend to write how I feel and at the moment... well, I seriously considered killing Dan or Phil, so it's probably best I leave them alone until I'm in a happy, writing zone again.**

Dan's POV.

As soon as I walk out of the room, I want to turn back and beg Phil to forgive me, grovel if I have to - but I can't. Seeing his scars... It's conformation, if I needed any, that all I'll do by being with him is screw up his life until he's too broken to see it

'Fucking fuck!' I yell through my teeth, clenching my fists in an effort to keep myself from destroying the office in a childish fit of grief-induced rage. I want to scream at the whole shitty, unfair world, and I feel myself shake with anger until, within seconds, I succumb to the pain and everything else is forgotten because it hurts so much I can't breathe, can't see, can't think.

Leg's shaking violently, I find myself collapsing against the sofa bed, leaning forwards to cover my face with my hands and wonder vaguely why I'm not crying before deciding that I must be in some level of shock. That, or after what's happened over the last couple of months I just don't have anything left in me. All my anger at the universe drains away and I find myself thinking _fine, screw it, you win; you want me to leave him alone? Don't want me to be happy? Fine. I'm done fighting._

Part of me feels like I should have seen this coming; life has been too kind to me too many times, giving me more than I could ever deserve in Phil, so I should've known it was too good to be true that he was mine. I've thought more than once that he was the sunshine fighting through the endless storms I had always struggled to see past, but now... Now I realise that he was drowning too.

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,_

 _Please don't take my sunshine away._

A strangled laugh escapes me as the lyrics float across my mind - and it's funny, so goddamn funny, because no-one took him from me. Instead, I was led to push him away myself when I could no longer ignore the fact that my sun was burning himself out because of me.

'Phil I'm sorry'. I murmur into my hands. A shuddering breath escapes me and, as I've done so many times before, I give myself three seconds to completely fall apart before standing up forcing myself to get my shit together. I pace the room, pausing to look out at the unnervingly quiet street every now and then as I try to work out where I should go from here - but my mind is blank. I have no idea how to deal with this whole situation, and I'm terrified of making more mistakes, hurting Phil further... and God knows I'm too weak to deal with any more pain. When I saw Phil's scars... It was like he'd made the same marks on me a thousand times over, like every inch of my skin was raw and bleeding. I don't think I'll ever shake the feeling that his blood is on my hands.

Fuck.

For the first time in too long, I think I get it. I think I get why he was so angry when he came home to find me trying to... end my life. It's because when you hurt yourself or let yourself forget that people care about you, as painful as it is for you, it's a million times more so for the people who love you, the people who want you to be safe and happy and don't understand why they aren't enough for you.

Jesus, this is so unbelievably messed up.

Unable to sort through everything myself at the moment, I try and take a step back. Detach a little. In fact, I find myself doing something so stupid it works; I write myself an email. In my head, I draft a message as if I were writing to 'Danisnotonfire' for advice in an Internet Support Group video, trying to imagine what I would tell myself to do. I can practically hear the response I would give:

 _'Well Dan, first of all get over yourself. This guy loves you for a reason, and if you're going to be so shitty and dramatic that you leave him just when he needs you most, then the least you owe him is to be his friend. Just make sure he knows he's not alone and that you both take some time to work through this and help each other out.'_

So that's what I decide to do. For now, as much as it might hurt, I'll settle for being Phil's friend. That's why when I go downstairs and, finding him collapsed on the floor with a gash on his arm, I bandage him up and lay him in bed, letting my fingers linger slightly as I brush his hair back. That's why whenever I find him half drunk on the roof of our building at three in the morning (which happens more than I care to admit over the next few days), I just sit with him and let him rage or cry or keep silent, because that's what friends do. And if on those nights his hand finds mine, or he kisses me, sloppy and clumsy and forgetting, and I don't say anything... Well, isn't that just what a friend would do to make sure he doesn't do something stupid? To make sure that...

Hell who am I kidding? It's easy in those moments to let myself forget, to pretend that I never said goodbye and forget that I should be keeping as much distance as possible. When I let myself see how much he still wants me, I forget how wrong I am for him and I can almost kid myself that carrying on like this will work.

I almost kid myself that I deserve to be happy.


	12. Chapter 12

Phil's POV.

Six days.

Less than a week since Dan left me. yet the time passes slower than I could ever imagine.

Six days is all it takes for me to completely snap.

On the first day, I wake up in bed with a bandage around my arm and a glass of water on the windowsill. I don't get up.

On the second day, I finally leave my room and find Dan in the living room on his laptop. Neither of us makes any effort to break the silence and I end up on the rooftop, a drink in my hand because the quiet is too heavy to wash away on its own.

On the third day, he wakes me up with coffee and the day passes like any other - video games, teasing and smiles so big that I want to scream or throw up because I don't understand how he can act so normal.

By the end of the fourth day, Dan finds me in what has become my new favourite hiding place and sits beside me, our legs dangling off the ledge of the roof. For a moment, I consider how easy it would be to lean forwards, to shift my weight just slightly and let gravity do the rest of the work. On that night, I feel feverish and uncontrollable, unable to decide whether I want to yell at, hit or kiss Dan. I think I do all three.

On the fifth day, he doesn't say a word about any of it, and my skin crawls with an almost tangible shame. I spend most of the day outside, and even use the fire escape to get onto the roof without drawing Dan's attention. He finds me anyway, and I spend hours trying to talk to him through an onslaught of tears. I kiss him. He lets me.

Just a few hours into the sixth day, I feel ready to combust or claw at my skin. Again, Dan wakes me up with coffee and a smile that tears at my heart and the morning is spent in our usual lazy routine of anime, games and meaningless conversation. I try to film a video, just a quick vlog to distract me, but again, I can't stand how close he is, how sweet and patient he's being, when I know he couldn't be further from my reach. Dan might be here, but as long as I know he isn't mine then his kindness and support is unbearable because it's not enough, not the same. It's torture to have him so near when I can't get through to him or make him see that what I need is him, not space or even a friend.

Six days and I'm already experiencing freaking withdrawal symptoms.

By midday, I'm so on edge that without thinking about it, I all but jump off the sofa and rush out of the flat, letting my feet carry me towards the stairs and rooftop - but I don't quite make it. Before I get halfway down the corridor, a hand snatches at my shoulder and pulls me back, leading me to fall straight into a pair of waiting arms. In seconds, I'm steady on my feet again and muttering a begrudging 'thanks' as I try to avoid Dan's concerned gaze.

'Phil, stop. You don't have to run away all the time, just talk to me!' he implores.

'Well I don't have to spend all day in that god-awful flat with you either!' I snap, folding my arms across my chest in a juvenile stubborn gesture.

'No, you're right, I don't want you to feel trapped. You need space. I'm sorry. Just go.' he says slowly, taking a deep breath before lifting his head to flash me the briefest crooked smile. I turn to leave, fully intending to get as far away from him as possible, but I know if I don't get something off my chest I won't come back.

'Just for the record, it's that kind of crap that I can't stand.'

'What do you mean?' he asks, frowning slightly.

'I can't be around you when you're like this! Stop being so bloody nice and understanding all the time.'

'So you want me to just leave you alone then?' Dan says, clearly working not to raise his voice.

'No, just... Fuck, how do I say this? Dan, you're trying to be my friend, and that's not what I need. I don't need you to put up with every mood swing like it's your job to make my life as easy as possible, I don't need -'

'What do you need, Phil?' he interrupts, and I spend a long time looking trying to decide whether or not to just say -

'You.'

'I'm here. You do have me, for as long you like.' comes the 'reassuring' reply but he _still_ isn't getting it.

'But you're not. I don't. You may as well have left altogether, hell, moved out, because _my_ Dan? The one who finally admitted that he loved me? The kid with bruised shins and curly hair that looked at me like I was the freaking sun? He's gone.'

'He's not.' Dan insists quietly, and I see his hand twitch as he reaches for mine before deciding against it. 'But Phil, like I said, I'm not good for you.'

'You don't get to decide that!' I yell suddenly, unbelievably frustrated with him. 'I want you Dan, I need you.' I beg, every attempt at dignity lost when it comes to him. A faint blush creeps across his face, and for a moment he's stuck for words, unsure what move to make.

He chooses denial; it's super effective.

Not.

'What if I don't want you?' he hisses, the words dripping with venom.

'Don't bullshit me Dan. I know you feel the same because you kiss me back when you think I'm too drunk to notice.' I retort, and his cheeks flush in spite of himself.

'So what if I do feel the same? It doesn't matter because all I'll do is continue to fuck up your life without realising. You deserve more than that... You deserve someone as good as you, and this is me giving you the space to find them.'

'Dan, I already did, and he promised me forever, the lying shit!'

'That was before he realised 'forever' would only hurt you, kill you even.' Dan murmurs, suddenly transfixed by the floor.

'Only if I have to spend it without him.' I say, gently tilting his head back up so he can see the truth of the words in my face.

'Please don't.' he breathes, everything in him seeming to crumble. 'This is the fucking hardest thing I've ever had to do, so please... Don't keep making it near impossible for me to help you.'

'You want to help me? Come back. Be mine, because you are, right? Always. That was the deal, you prick.'

'Before I knew it would cost your soul, your life, and that -'

But I cut him off, leaning forwards to push him against the wall and kissing him before he has a chance to react. If he won't listen to words, then this is the only way I can think to make him see how much we need each other. Not stopping to care how hungry and desperate I might seem, or that one of our neighbours could walk past at any moment, I press as close to him as I can, one hand on the wall either side of him. Dan, recovering from the shock, attempts to push me away, but the fists pushing against my chest seem to give up, and his palms fall flat against it for just a second before he seizes handfuls of my t-shirt and drags me closer. I feel my lips curve in a smile as he moans against my mouth, and my blood seems to fizz, sparking with an electricity that is both brand new and achingly familiar. This is why I couldn't understand that Dan didn't think he was good for me: he doesn't hurt or drain me, he wakes me up. The energy between us... This is my life support.

All too soon, he pulls away again, staring at me with as if torn between guilt and resignation. I'm not sure he'll ever believe he's more than good for me, but I think he finally realises that we shouldn't be apart and for now, that's enough to banish the sense of dread and despair that's been my constant companion these last six days.

'Well that just happened.' he says quietly, voice shaking with nervous laughter.

'It had to, you wouldn't listen.' I grin.

'Whatever.' Dan replies, rolling his eyes even as he steps forward to trap me in a tight embrace. 'This is it now isn't it? No more messing around.'

'This is it.' I agree, and I know it is because what could be stronger, more certain than us when we're both fighting together? 'Just promise you won't leave me again, asshole.'

'I promise. To be honest, I don't think I'd survive trying to again... Christ, we've been such idiots.'

'I'm going to need that in writing - just to be on the safe side.' I smile, and he swats at the back of my head just as I duck and pull away from him. I pout with exaggerated disappointment as he narrowly avoids hitting himself in the face, and try not to laugh as he flips up his middle finger, evidently unimpressed with my childishness.

'Such a spork.' he giggles in spite of himself, draping an arm across my shoulders. 'Home?'

'Not yet.' I shake my head, turning to steer him in the direction I'd originally planned.

''Rooftop? Really? You're literally the human fucking embodiment of a cheesy rom-com. You disgust me.'

'It's a good place to think. We've got a lot of crap to sort out now, so I think we should spend some time trying to decide -'

'What's next.' we finish in unison, Dan slowly nodding in agreement before a wicked smirk creeps across his face and lets me know that there are several things that come to his mind immediately.

'Be serious, please. I chide, unable to hide the flush of my cheeks.

'You're right. Serious Business; A.K.A: What's next for Dan and Phil?'

'I'm thinking world domination for a start...' I say earnestly, grinning as Dan splutters with laughter.

'So much for serious business.' He complains as we arrive at the rooftop, wind instantly lashing our faces. He takes off his jacket and lays it on the ground, creating a dry place for us to sit. We spend the rest of the day coming up with video ideas, travel plans, new projects... Anything that comes to mind, and with the thriving city sprawled beneath us, stretching further than we can see in any direction, it really feels as if the world is ours for the taking. With him, there's no chance my wildest dreams can't come true, and even just planning things for our future makes me dizzy with excitement.

Needless to say, the sixth day is one of the best of my life.


End file.
